The high-profile Texas prosecutor and native Houstonian lost the Republican primary for Williamson County district attorney in May 2012. It was a post he had held for a decade.

He lost because even in a blazing red county that demands tough-on-crime justice, truth is important.

And Bradley had stood in the way of truth in the case of Michael Morton, who spent nearly a quarter century in prison on a false conviction in the 1986 murder of his wife.

Although it was Bradley's predecessor, Ken Anderson, who hid evidence to secure Morton's life sentence, it was Bradley who belittled Morton's claims of innocence and vehemently fought testing of DNA evidence that had the power to set Morton free. The evidence, a bloody bandana found near the crime scene, was only tested after an appeals court ordered it.

Bradley's stonewalling prolonged an innocent man's hell by 2,400 days. It also allowed the real killer, Mark Alan Norwood, to roam the streets.

Since losing elected office, Bradley has tried to find work. In 2012, I wrote about him applying to lead the state's Special Prosecution Unit.

No one would take him. Until now. It seems Bradley has landed another prosecutor's post. Not in Texas. Not in the United States. In the tiny Republic of Palau, where, according to several sources, Bradley has accepted a position in the attorney general's office.

The former U.S. territory of about 20,000 people in Micronesia was granted independence in 1994, and now operates in "free association" with the United States.

Barry Scheck, co-founder and co-director of the New York-based Innocence Project, said he learned about Bradley's new job in a mass email from Bradley's wife.

David Shipper, who works for Palau President Tommy Remengesau and apparently had a hand in Bradley's hiring, said he didn't really "have any comments right now." When I continued talking, he hung up.

Palau's Attorney General Perry Kendall promised to provide some information if I called back this week. I did, but he didn't take the call. Bradley didn't return my message, either.

Bradley's ever loyal supporter, Gov. Rick Perry, made headlines earlier this year when he visited Palau on a privately funded mission to search for missing World War II airmen. During his visit, Perry was bestowed the title "honorary consul."

I wondered if Perry, who appointed Bradley to the vacant district attorney post, and then to the Texas Forensic Science Commission even as Bradley fought forensic testing in the Morton case, had any role in Bradley landing the Palau gig. Perry's office didn't respond to that question.

Rob Kepple, executive director of the Texas District and County Attorneys Association and a former colleague of Bradley's at the Harris County District Attorney's Office, said he hoped the island nation would provide a fresh start for his friend.

"It's been awhile," Kepple said, referring to the Morton revelations. "You know, maybe he gets another chance. Maybe he's got to go all the way to Palau to get it. But I wish him well."

Gracious, for most part

Scheck, at the Innocence Project, echoed that sentiment.

"He's certainly going quite a few thousand miles away in order to reinvent himself and we're all in favor of second acts in American lives," Scheck told me Tuesday.

Even Michael Morton maintained his graciousness when I asked what he thought about the prosecutor who wronged him returning to prosecuting.

"At this stage of the game, I wish him well," Morton said. "And, you know, adios."

Morton's Houston-based attorney John Raley, who worked the case for free, and fought Bradley at every turn as he tried to stymie Morton's appeals, was a tad less gracious.

"I'm not aware of any evidence that he has learned the lessons of the Morton case," Raley said of Bradley. "His actions in the future will answer that question."

Part of me thinks everybody, even John Bradley, has the right to make a living, to learn from mistakes and to get on with life after grievous errors.

The other part thinks Bradley is still a danger to justice everywhere, even 8,000 miles away.

Empathy not easy

It's hard to have empathy for a guy who had none for Morton and many others. The criminal justice blog Grits for Breakfast once dug up comments Bradley made on a prosecutors' online forum suggesting DNA evidence should be destroyed as part of plea bargains.

Even after DNA testing led authorities to Norwood, Bradley still fought Morton's exoneration, arguing the bandana was somehow tainted.

As the head of the forensic science commission, Bradley derailed an inquiry into faulty arson evidence and started it off by declaring the man convicted in the case, Cameron Todd Willingham, a "guilty monster." Gov. Perry presided over Willingham's execution in 2004.

Humbled, apologetic

Sure, after Bradley could no longer deny Morton's innocence, the supremely confident, sharp-tongued Bradley appeared humbled and apologetic.

He said he'd learned lessons. Then he back-tracked on previous statements at a court of inquiry for his old boss who railroaded Morton, and defended Anderson as a man of integrity.

Morton is the real man of integrity. I respect him for not holding grudges. I guess that's what kept him alive all those years.

"I wish him well. It's nice down there," Morton said of Palau. "You can work on your suntan. You can live in paradise and go scuba diving."

What a world. The innocent guy gets 25 years in the slammer. The guy who kept him there gets "paradise."